


Like A Hand Grenade

by ohyoudork



Series: Do You Know What's Worth Fighting For? [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohyoudork/pseuds/ohyoudork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU in which Les Amis de l’ABC are university students who work at the Musain Grille restaurant.</p><p>---</p><p>“You invited Cosette over here?!” Marius screeched, thrusting his beer into Eponine’s hands and rushing toward Grantaire.</p><p>“Hey, hey, it’s a gift, M,” Grantaire said with a laugh as Bahorel and Combeferre held Marius back, even though Bahorel looked like he’d rather let Marius go and see what would happen. “I did the hard part for you. All you have to do now is make your move.”</p><p>(Or the story of how Grantaire makes a bet with Enjolras and decides to play matchmaker.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Hand Grenade

“Marius, seriously, stop staring at your phone and just text her already,” Courfeyrac whined. Clad in cuffed jeans with thin suspenders over a worn T-shirt proclaiming “Like a cucumber” that Grantaire knew for a fact he had owned since they were freshmen, Courf had his legs swung up on the booth seat across from Marius. He was grinning his infectious smile at his forlorn friend, who wasn’t paying attention because his eyes were plastered to the smartphone that hadn’t left his hands since he’d arrived at the restaurant about three hours ago.

It was a fairly typical night at the Musain Grille after closing. The ones who worked there had clocked out nearly an hour ago and the others had congregated, choosing for some reason that they never quite understood to hang out in the restaurant, talking and drinking. Grantaire knew why he was there; he was waiting on Enjolras to finish whatever manager duties always required him to stay late. He was half-drunk himself, having had a relatively busy night with a group of women celebrating someone’s birthday - they insisted on him taking shots with them, and who was Grantaire to pass up a free shot? He was feeling pleasantly warm, his cheeks tingling just slightly.

He was sitting on top of the bar, his favorite place to relax, partially because Enjolras hated it. (“What kind of neanderthal sits on furniture like that?”) His back was against the wall, one leg bent upward and the other swinging down near Eponine who was perched on a barstool, her shoulders tense as they always were when the topic of Cosette came up.

Bahorel chuckled from the other side of Eponine as he tipped back his drink, emptying the liquor into his mouth. “Yeah, the worst she can say is ‘God what a stalker!’ and call the police on you,” he added, winking at Marius.

“You guys aren’t helping,” Marius lamented, laying his head down to rest on the table, his shock of red hair clashing with the “vintage” orange color scheme of all the restaurant’s surfaces. His dramatics only made Bahorel laugh harder as he stomped his boot against the rung on the barstool.

“Seriously though, Marius, why not just send a quick text? ‘Hi how are you’ kind of stuff?” Bossuet piped in from a few seats down at the bar. “You know she likes you or she wouldn’t put up with your stuttering or sweaty hands or how you follow her around the restaurant like a lost puppy whenever she’s here.”

“Because Marius is a chicken shit,” Grantaire concluded.

Eponine looked up at him with a scowl, and Grantaire stuck his tongue out at her - it wasn’t his problem that she had a crush on Marius, who was annoyingly in love with Cosette. Listening to Eponine gush about Marius since she had started at the restaurant was bad enough; actually working at the Musain and having to watch her moon over him and him all but ignore her for months was just torture for Grantaire. He’d done everything in his power to get her off Marius since he’d first met the shy, oblivious young man. 

For his part, Grantaire couldn’t even see the appeal. Sure, everyone loves a ginger with a face full of freckles, but all of the boys at the restaurant were attractive. Don’t get him started on Courf’s dimples or Feuilly’s puppy dog eyes or Bahorel’s cheekbones. Girls and guys both did double-takes whenever Jehan walked by. And Enjolras still left him speechless and weak in the knees on nearly every occasion. Then Eponine herself was a true stunner, raven hair with red streaks and these huge brown eyes and the most obscenely long eyelashes Grantaire had ever seen. It was actually unreal how beautiful all of his friends were. Sometimes he wondered if he chose them that way or if beauty was just drawn to him, like butterflies to an ordinary flower.

And of course, Marius was sweet and generous and fairly intelligent - especially if you got him talking about law reform and the criminal justice system - but overall he was just so stupidly naive and wholesome, the opposite of adrenaline-fueled Eponine and her street smarts. She deserved better; she deserved excitement and late-night adventures. She deserved more than Marius could ever give her even if he was to want her, and the fact remained that he didn’t. His infatuation with Cosette was known to everyone, Cosette probably included, and Grantaire just wished Marius would make his move already so Eponine could move on to bigger and better things.

“You’re one to talk, Grantaire, considering I had to basically sit in your lap for you to make a move on me.”

Grantaire felt his face light up at the sound of Enjolras’ voice; it was a completely knee-jerk reaction every single time. Grantaire would never get used to how Enjolras’ voice carried into his ears like music. His boyfriend strode out from the back office, unrolling the sleeves of his light blue button-down and balancing his thick winter coat under his armpit. Enjolras approached him and surprised him with a soft kiss.

Though he was touchy-feely with everyone, Enjolras wasn’t huge on PDA, saying it wasn’t professional and preferring to keep things like that in the bedroom (and the back office and abandoned classrooms after lectures...). But sometimes the mood just struck him, like a few days ago when he found out he’d gotten the coveted internship at the biggest city newspaper for his last semester. As soon as he got off the phone with the editor, he’d made a beeline for the bar and pulled Grantaire into a tight hug in front of the few remaining customers from the lunch rush. He’d kissed Grantaire’s neck almost sloppily and whispered the dirtiest things imaginable in his ear. That was a good night.

Grantaire didn’t know why Enjolras was being affectionate now, but he instantly took advantage, swinging his body sideways to wrap his legs around Enjolras’ torso, his heels at the top of Enjolras’ butt which looked spectacular in his khakis. Enjolras smiled into the kiss, but then stopped at the sound of Marius groaning in the background.

“You all are disgusting and completely useless,” he said as he pulled his legs up onto the booth seat and buried his face against his knees.

Enjolras turned around to face his friend, situating himself between Grantaire’s legs and placing his coat in front of him. Grantaire laid his chin on Enjolras’ shoulder, his fingers tickling along his boyfriend’s biceps, determined to not let Marius’ bitching stop him from enjoying Enjolras’ amorous mood.

“Marius, you can’t just keep complaining and not doing anything,” Enjolras said. “Take some action and deal with the consequences, whether they’re what you expect or not. That’s the beauty of taking a risk. Risks are about taking chances, taking a leap of faith, if you will. It’s about setting a goal and doing what you need to do to achieve it. You need to stop expecting us to do something, or Cosette to do something, and stand on your own feet. I know you’re capable of it.”

Grantaire had to bite his lip as he sat there, knowing Enjolras could feel him getting hard from behind him. He couldn’t help it though - when Enjolras started speaking like that, his voice rising and falling like an intricate aria, Grantaire had to fight every urge to slam him against the wall and feel those words in his mouth. He wanted to taste that passion - it made him drunk without a drop of alcohol. And seeing as he usually already had some alcohol in him, keeping himself restrained was like a lion trying to not pounce on its prey.

“Is he still going on about Cosette?” Combeferre asked with a grimace as he and Joly emerged from the kitchen, finally done cleaning and prepping for the next day. “Haven’t we been having this same conversation for months?”

Joly practically skipped over to Bossuet, who’d been sitting at the bar for hours before closing and was already very drunk. Joly dusted some nonexistent dust off the stool next to him and then swung into it, knocking his knees against Bossuet’s and tangling their legs together.

“But tonight is different,” Feuilly picked up, popping in from the rear exit with Jehan, red-faced and grinning, behind him.

“Yeah,” Jehan agreed, “Marius said he was going to ask her out. Right, M?”

Marius groaned, his face still in his knees, and curled into himself further, becoming a tight ball of self-pity in the booth.

“Let’s examine the facts. He’s been stupid in love with her for almost a whole year. He’s had her phone number for a month now that she physically gave to him. He made that bold proclamation about finally asking her out hours ago. And I swear he’s just been staring at his phone since he got here,” Courfeyrac said as he swatted at Marius.

Jehan looked crestfallen, the hopeless romantic with his dreams of another happy couple at least temporarily dashed. Feuilly took his hand and led him to the table in between the bar and the booth where Courf and Marius were. Feuilly sat down and, after Jehan did the same, pulled his boyfriend’s legs up onto his lap and started playing with the stitching of Jehan’s bright yellow jeans.

“Marius, why not just invite her down here? It could be a casual group hangout, but you asking would let her know that you were thinking of her,” Combeferre suggested, always the sensible one.

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac perked up, hopping up and down in his seat. “The Musain is like a lucky charm, too. Our fearless leader and Grantaire finally made their moves on each other behind the bar. And Feuilly kissed Jehan in the lobby right in front of Mr. Valjean that first time. And then Joly and Bossuet in the kitchen --”

“Wait, what?! My kitchen?” Combeferre interrupted, looking over at the pair who were grinning into each other’s shoulders.

“And of course, ‘Fer and Eponine in that corner booth,” Grantaire added with a sly smile.

“That was only one time,” Combeferre protested, suddenly looking down and needing to make sure his corduroy jacket was perfectly straight.

“And you said you wouldn’t mention it again,” Eponine turned to slap Grantaire’s knee, her pretty face contorted as she attempted to shoot lasers at him with her eyes.

“I’m just trying to give an accurate portrayal of the restaurant’s allure,” Grantaire continued, amused as always when he was able to make his best friend lose her cool - and Combeferre’s embarrassment about the chaste kiss he and Eponine had shared on a bet months ago was an added bonus.

Marius looked around at them like they had just suggested a group orgy or something, his hands running through his hair while he shook his head repeatedly.

“I can’t invite her down here. Regardless of the fact that you’re all insane and would probably traumatize her, it’s her dad’s restaurant. That’s hardly romantic. Let’s just drop it, OK? Who’s coming over to me and Courf’s? Last Saturday night before spring semester starts.”

Marius stood up, clearly done with the conversation, his shoulders set and his jaw clenched. For a moment, Grantaire could see what Eponine saw in him - Marius could be quite hot when he got frustrated. Once you got past the awkwardness, there was a determination to him that was definitely attractive. If he could hold on to that sense of resolution when faced with Cosette, instead of turning into the stuttering wreck he tended to be in her presence, maybe the sparks would finally fly between them.

Besides Marius, none of them really knew Cosette that well. Jehan had had an English course with her last semester, and Bahorel had drunkenly hit on her the first time he’d met her. (Grantaire remembered that she had given him a polite but firm “no thanks” while gazing wistfully at Marius.) Enjolras had had a few conversations with her since he’d been at the restaurant the longest, but even he didn’t know much about her except that she was a humanities major, volunteered like crazy at a bunch of local charities, and had a singing voice “to die for” according to Mr. Valjean.

However, Grantaire was a keen observer when the time called for it (which was apparently not in all the months Enjolras had been pining over him without his knowledge before they’d gotten together). He’d seen how Cosette’s face would light up when she saw Marius was hanging around the restaurant, even if she tried to hide it quickly. He saw the way she leaned into their brief back-and-forths and how her hand would ghost across Marius’ back without him noticing.

Yes, Grantaire was fairly sure that Cosette felt the same about Marius as he did about her, though if it was to the same slightly obsessive degree, he didn’t know. She seemed determined to force him to make the first move, but knowing Marius, that was still years away.

“We’re all coming,” Courfeyrac answered for everyone, standing up to follow Marius. He quickly slipped his coat on and rushed to catch up with his roommate who was already at the front door. The rest of the group exchanged looks before getting to their feet as well.

Feuilly and Jehan, already bundled up from whatever they’d been up to out back, followed - Feuilly wrapped around Jehan’s back with his hands stuck into the pockets of Jehan’s coat. Bahorel stood and offered a hand to Eponine, who took it with a controlled smile as she hopped down from the barstool. She sent another sad look back at Grantaire before slipping on the big headphones that practically lived around her neck. Bossuet pulled on the cap Joly had knitted for him over his shaved head and followed him out, shamelessly patting his boyfriend’s butt as he walked rather unsteadily.

Enjolras wiggled out of Grantaire’s legs, turning around as he put his coat on.

“Coming?” he asked, extending his hands out, his golden hair - which was desperately in need of a cut, though Grantaire would never suggest such a thing - falling onto his forehead.

“One second,” Grantaire replied, pulling his legs up and spinning around to land on the other side of the bar, his arms raised in a flourish that only made Enjolras roll his eyes. He swiped his leather jacket - a Christmas gift from Enjolras that he didn’t deserve but loved instantly - from the cabinet under the bar and grabbed his and Bahorel’s glasses that had been sitting on the counter and put them into the sink.

“I’ll clean them first thing tomorrow before brunch,” he said before Enjolras even had a chance to scold him. He maneuvered around the other side of the bar and was putting his jacket on when he noticed Marius’ phone sitting on the table.

“That klutz managed to leave his phone here when he hadn’t let it out of his hands all night,” Grantaire snickered, picking it up and pocketing it.

Enjolras laughed as he wound his dark blue scarf around his neck. He looked like a goddamn Abercrombie model or something, standing there in his khakis and gray peacoat and scarf tucked in perfectly. Grantaire found himself momentarily frozen, wondering what he ever did to get so lucky as to have this Greek god all to himself. Every once in awhile, he still pinched himself to make sure it was real.

“Grantaire, come here. I can tell you’re about to start spouting some poetic nonsense about how undeserving you are of me. You have that glazed look in your eyes,” Enjolras said, startling Grantaire and making him wonder if Enjolras had superpowers, not for the first time. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if Enjolras was, like, one of the first of a new evolution of men. Beautiful and golden and fiery and a mind reader...

“And if you’re thinking about me being a mutant X-Man or something again, you can just go home by yourself right now,” Enjolras smirked, a rare look on his handsome face.

Grantaire started walking toward his boyfriend and was about to wipe that smirk off Enjolras’ face using his mouth, when Enjolras held up a single finger (that ended up hitting Grantaire in the cheek) and reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone. He glanced at who was calling and sighed; Grantaire scowled and wished he could throw the phone against the wall without inviting Enjolras’ wrath.

“Courfeyrac, seriously, we’re on our way, I promise. It’s been roughly two minutes. We had no intention of skipping out,” Enjolras said patiently.

“I did,” Grantaire said loudly, crossing his arms and definitely not pouting as the couple started walking toward the front door, Grantaire flicking the lights off as they passed.

“Yes, we have Marius’ phone. Yes, we’re leaving right now. You have my word.” Enjolras paused, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he listened. “What do you mean my word doesn’t mean anything?”

Grantaire swiped the phone from Enjolras before Courfeyrac got an earful. “Do you really want to get Enjy all riled up by questioning his honor? I didn’t think so. Cool your jets - we’ll see you in 10.”

Stepping outside, Grantaire ended the call and returned the phone to Enjolras’ back pocket, squeezing his ass playfully in the process. It was a bone-chilling night, one of those winter evenings when you could actually feel the cold deep inside no matter how thick your clothes were. Grantaire hated the winter; he hated snow and ice and being bulky with too many layers just so as to not lose feeling in your extremities. He snuck his hand into the pocket of Enjolras’ coat and took one of his gloves. Enjolras swatted at him as he pocketed the keys after locking up the restaurant.

“What are you going to do with one glove, may I ask?” Enjolras took the other glove out of his pocket and put it on his right hand as they began walking down the boulevard toward where Marius and Courfeyrac lived, which was thankfully only about two blocks.

“I only need one,” Grantaire replied, sliding the glove on his left hand and taking Enjolras’ hand with his right. “You keep the other warm, Apollo.”

Enjolras looked down at their joined hands with a fond smile, and Grantaire knew he’d returned his boyfriend to his earlier affectionate mood despite Courfeyrac’s attempt to derail it.

“You know, we really could just go back to your place. They won’t miss us,” Grantaire bumped Enjolras’ shoulder slightly as they turned a corner.

Enjolras sighed, blowing small puffs of warm air into the frigid sky. “We do have to go. I gave my word and apparently I need to remind everyone that giving my word is more a certainty than simply a promise. But besides that, last time I backed out on plans with Courfeyrac, he, Joly, and Bossuet came to my apartment and duct taped me into my bedroom. Coincidentally, that plan backfired on them because I needed to be barricaded in my room to finish the rough draft of my thesis anyway.”

“They could duct tape us both in your room,” Grantaire said, squeezing his eyes shut as visions of days and days with just Enjolras and a bed played out in his imagination.

“Pole,” Enjolras said nonchalantly, as Grantaire snapped his eyes open and barely sidestepped a light post two feet in front of him.

“Asshole,” he muttered under his breath.

Enjolras just smiled, almost sweetly, and kept walking.

“Well, since we’re definitely going,” Grantaire said, reaching into his pocket to retrieve Marius’ phone, “I think it’s about damn time we did something about the Cosette situation.”

Grantaire let go of Enjolras’ hand and started texting with his one bare hand.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras whispered, slowing their walk and trying to look over at the phone.

“I’m inviting Cosette over,” Grantaire said with a shrug, holding the phone out for Enjolras to see the finished text: _party at me and courfs place. 115 2nd st. apt 3c. id love if you could come by_

“Marius is going to kill you,” Enjolras replied, shaking his head but also not taking the phone away to stop him.

Grantaire pressed send quickly and put the phone back in his pocket. “He’ll thank me before the night is out. I guarantee it.”

“You guarantee it? Would you care to make a wager on that?”

Arriving at the apartment complex where Marius and Courfeyrac lived, Grantaire looked over at Enjolras, unsure of whether he was kidding or not. Enjolras enjoyed taking risks and thrived when presented with challenges, but he wasn’t a gambler, especially when it came to bets between the boys, which often ended up with someone running around some building naked when they lost.

“You want to make a bet with me? You are in a rare mood tonight, aren’t you?” he asked, ushering Enjolras into the warmth of the lobby.

“I bet that tonight is just like every other time Marius is around Cosette, and nothing will come of your scheme,” Enjolras slowly unwound his scarf and unbuttoned his coat as they started up the stairs.

“And I bet tonight is the night he finally makes a move, and we won’t have to deal with them pining over each other from a distance anymore,” Grantaire stopped at the landing below Courf and Marius’ floor and extended his hand. Enjolras shook it swiftly.

“What are your terms?” Enjolras asked, licking his lips.

Grantaire couldn’t tell if Enjolras did that unconsciously or not, but the reason didn’t really matter. He crowded into Enjolras’ space and pressed him against the stairwell wall, his fingers digging into Enjolras’ hips. This reckless attitude of Enjolras’ was outrageously hot.

“If I win, you call out of work tomorrow - let Combeferre take the reigns - and stay in bed with me all day.”

Enjolras let his head drop just an inch, and Grantaire saw a flicker of doubt flash in his stormy blue eyes. “I can’t just call out of work. That’s not how I conduct myself --”

“Those are my terms,” Grantaire smiled, rocking on his heels, which brought his chest against and apart from Enjolras’. “If you’re so sure I’m wrong, then it shouldn’t be a problem because you won’t have to do it anyway, right?”

Enjolras raised his eyebrow, pursed his lips, and then nodded his head. “Fine. But if I win, you have to attend every single one of your classes this semester, unless you’re legitimately ill. No excuses.”

Grantaire chuckled. “Way to think large. I should have gone more big picture. Like making you get a tattoo or something. I’ve been imagining how my name would look right here,” Grantaire dragged his fingers along Enjolras’ lower torso, hip bone to hip bone.

Enjolras couldn’t help but shudder, the motion sending vibrations through Grantaire’s body as well. Then he leaned toward Grantaire’s ear and whispered, “So do we have a deal?”

Grantaire felt his stomach dip down all the way to his toes. Enjolras knew the effect his voice had, whether it was arguing in a classroom or barking orders in the restaurant or reciting political doctrine. But Grantaire’s favorite was Enjolras’ whisper, the gentle cascade of words that tumbled out of his mouth like a sigh - the way his lips formed around each word, the way his tongue moved to articulate each one perfectly. There was nothing more beautiful.

Grantaire angled his head to kiss the side of Enjolras’ jaw, using his teeth to nip at it just slightly until he felt Enjolras roll his hips in response, bucking against the cement wall behind him. Enjolras let a quiet, almost desperate moan escape his lips, and Grantaire felt like the wind had gotten knocked out of him. OK, Grantaire thought, maybe that was more beautiful than his whisper - that raw need Enjolras expressed so gracefully, so melodically. Grantaire couldn’t wait to win this bet and have an entire day in bed to explore every single tone that came out of Enjolras’ glorious mouth.

Of course at that moment, Grantaire felt Marius’ phone vibrate in his jacket pocket and he reluctantly pulled back from Enjolras to check the progress of his plan: _sounds great, on my way, be there soon :)_

Grantaire just grinned and held the phone up so Enjolras could see Cosette’s response.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Just because she’s coming doesn’t mean Marius won’t act like his normal, awkward self or spend the evening hiding in his bedroom,” Enjolras said, pushing his hair back off his forehead as he pulled down his shirt that had hiked up while he was against the wall.

“Just you wait,” Grantaire replied, hopping up the last flight of stairs to Courf and Marius’ floor. “You’re going to see some serious romantic magic.”

Enjolras followed as they pushed open the heavy stairwell door and turned a sharp corner to arrive at the apartment; Grantaire let himself in, long used to making himself at home everywhere.

“It’s about damn time!” Courf said above the music of some obscure indie rock band that Eponine probably put on.

Enjolras entered first, sidestepping Courf’s attempt at a hug, and tossed his coat and scarf on the waist-high statue of an elephant that served as a coat rack. None of them could remember how it had gotten into the apartment - it had just been there one day. It was a running joke that it would just disappear some day as mysteriously as it had shown up. (Grantaire was still nursing a private theory that it was Enjolras’ doing, and there would be some grand reveal before he graduated. Although, more than likely, Grantaire himself had managed to put it there when he was particularly intoxicated and just couldn’t remember.)

Joly and Combeferre sat together in front of the TV on the worn bean bag chair, engrossed in a Family Feud rerun. Jehan was completely in his own world, his eyes closed, dancing to the music without any sense of rhythm; Feuilly was perched on a stack of old milk crates, his sketchbook on his lap, watching Jehan with a fond, intent gaze as he drew. In the kitchen, Bahorel was mixing some gross combination of alcohols with a still-moping Marius leaning against the counter.

Grantaire patted Courfeyrac’s shoulder good-naturedly as he made a beeline for Eponine, who was sitting on the couch having what looked like a very one-sided conversation with a bleary-eyed Bossuet.

“-- I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the end of the world if there were more women in power. When I get on the force and eventually become the first female police chief, I’m going to make sure there’s more female officers, more opportunities for women to move up in rank. It may scare men, but you know, I think they need to have their world rocked a little.”

As he approached, Grantaire locked eyes with her and then jerked his head. She hopped over the side of the couch and landed without a sound, light on her feet as always. Bossuet sent him a grateful smile as he sank onto the floor and scooted himself to sit Indian-style behind Joly and Combeferre in front of the TV.

“Hey, Ep, I’ve got to tell you something,” Grantaire whispered, taking her by the arm to stand against the far wall.

“Is Enjolras letting Bahorel make him a drink?” Eponine asked at nearly the same time.

Grantaire turned around to watch his boyfriend accept a glass filled with what looked a bit like murky water. He tipped it back and swallowed a gulp with a grimace, Bahorel patting him on the back and laughing loudly.

“He’s a mood tonight, isn’t he? First being all kissy-kissy at the restaurant and now actually drinking. What’s up with him?”

“I honestly have no idea. But it gets better. Or worse, depending on who you’re talking about. We made a bet on the way over here,” Grantaire said, biting his lip. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Marius’ phone, scrolling to the texts with Cosette. He didn’t know how Eponine was going to react; he knew it was for her own good, that with Marius off the market she’d be able to move on, but the way her face collapsed after reading the texts made his chest ache.

“I’m sorry, Ep, I really am,” Grantaire leaned forward to hug her, but she backed away, her arms stiff at her side, her tiny hands balled into fists. Grantaire felt like she’d punched him in the gut. He actually kind of wished she would.

“What was the bet?” she asked, her voice cold.

Grantaire sighed, suddenly wondering if any of this was a good idea. With his tendency do the absolute wrong thing in any given situation, maybe he’d really outdone himself this time. “I said Marius would finally make his move tonight, and Enjolras bet against it.”

“What do you get if you win?”

“Enjy has to call out of work tomorrow and stay in bed with me. Of course, if I lose, I agreed to attend every single class this semester like a proper student.”

Eponine leaned her head against the wall and looked down, her mind clearly moving a mile a minute. Jehan danced by, bumping his hip against Eponine first and then Grantaire; someone must have given him tequila because that was the only thing that ever got the awkward poet to dance. Feuilly suppressed a giggle as he continued sketching.

“Well, we can’t have you being a role model or anything,” Eponine finally said, lifting her head to meet Grantaire’s gaze with a sad smile. “Despite the fact that you seem determined to keep me single forever, I know how much you’d enjoy an entire day of private time with your Greek god of a workaholic boyfriend. What can I do to help?”

Grantaire threw his arms around her. “God, I don’t deserve you. You’re the fucking best, you know that?”

“I do,” she murmured against his shoulder. “I’m an amazing friend unlike other people.”

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise, Ep.” Grantaire kissed the side of her head as she wiggled out of the hug. “If you really want to help, after Cosette gets here, just make sure Marius doesn’t lock himself in the bathroom or anything. I can’t have him hiding, or Enjolras will definitely win.”

Eponine stuffed her hands in her pockets and nodded. “I can do that. What are you going to do?”

“You think I have a real plan?” Grantaire chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. “I definitely need another drink or six though.”

“Yeah, me too,” Eponine agreed, taking Grantaire’s hand as they walked toward the kitchen where Enjolras was finishing his drink and Courfeyrac was already in the process of concocting another one.

“Do you see this, ‘Taire?” Courf asked, one of his suspenders sliding down his shoulder as he bounced excitedly. “Enjolras just finished a drink. A whole drink. I asked him if he was dying and trying to cross things off his bucket list, but he didn’t find the humor in that.”

“You all are acting as if I never let loose,” Enjolras grinned full and wide, his white teeth shining.

Eponine jumped up to sit on the counter, swinging her legs near Marius, who was staring into space.

“Enjolras, the last time I saw you drink anything more than a few obligatory sips was at your parent’s anniversary dinner a year ago,” Combeferre piped in, standing gingerly from the bean bag chair where Joly had fallen asleep curled into a small ball with Bossuet’s arms wrapped around him from behind. “And even then, that was only a glass and a half of wine.”

Grantaire took the cup Courfeyrac was handing to Enjolras and examined the murky, almost brown liquid. Then he sniffed it. “You’re giving him... god, what is this? It looks like mud and smells like vinegary apples.”

Courfeyrac took the cup back and gave it to Enjolras, who promptly took a long drink. “It’s a bit of vodka, sour apple pucker, and pink lemonade.”

“How does your brain work, Courf? In what world does that sound like a good combination?” Grantaire shook his head as he retrieved his flask from his back pocket and took a swill.

“It tastes great to me,” Enjolras was still smiling as he leaned his chin on Grantaire’s shoulder. He added, whispering, “But victory when Marius caves is going to taste better.”

Remembering he needed to start putting some kind of plan into action before Cosette arrived, Grantaire pulled out Marius’ phone. “Hey, M, here’s your phone. I sent a few texts. Check it out.”

Grantaire tossed the phone at Marius, who caught it despite having a beer bottle in one hand. “You did what? Grantaire, what did you do?”

A soft ballad began playing from Eponine’s iPod attached to Courf’s speakers, creating a kind of creepy quiet in the apartment. Everyone was focused on Grantaire and Marius - Enjolras was grinning openly, and Eponine was chewing at her lip.

“You invited Cosette over here?!” Marius screeched, thrusting his beer into Eponine’s hands and rushing toward Grantaire.

“Hey, hey, it’s a gift, M,” Grantaire said with a laugh as Bahorel and Combeferre held Marius back, even though Bahorel looked like he’d rather let Marius go and see what would happen. “I did the hard part for you. All you have to do now is make your move.”

Marius seemed to lose his fire as his face blanched, becoming limp in Combeferre’s arms. He looked like he was going to faint. Grantaire heard Enjolras chuckle and whisper, “Told you.”

Grantaire took another drink from his flask before returning it to his pocket. He took Marius by the arm, Courfeyrac and Eponine following, and sat down on the lumpy couch. Grantaire had hoped Marius would hold onto that anger longer - hoped it would morph into some kind of adrenaline-fueled passion when Cosette got there. But Grantaire saw he was going to have to rile him up in a different way.

Marius sunk into the sofa, his head resting on the top and his limbs completely slack. Grantaire closed his eyes briefly to think and then snapped them open when he felt Courfeyrac poke him in the ribs from across Marius. Courf was smiling wickedly, his eyes bright, and Grantaire realized he was in on it. Enjolras must have spilled the beans on the bet; they hadn’t said anything about it being exclusive and, despite Enjolras’ apparent intentions, Courf looked like he was on Grantaire’s side.

With a quick nod in Courf’s direction, Grantaire started, “Marius. Man, look, I’m sorry if I stepped out of bounds or anything. I thought I was being helpful. But hey, maybe Bahorel can keep Cosette company once she gets here. He’s always been kind of sweet on her. You know how much he likes pretty things and pretty people.”

Courfeyrac dramatically turned to look at Bahorel, still standing at the counter, gesturing wildly as he recounted something to Enjolras and Combeferre. Marius followed Courf’s glance, clearly eyeing their friend’s well-defined biceps in his tight T-shirt and his crooked smile that had led so many girls back to his bed.

“Obviously Cosette can make up her own mind. She’s a strong feminist type, but you know once Bahorel turns on his charm, there’s basically a 95 percent chance that he’s getting lucky. He just has that knack. And those cheekbones,” Grantaire patted Marius’ arm gently. “And maybe that would be best. It’s been months and you haven’t done anything. Maybe it’s a sign. She is crazy out of your league anyway.”

Those were apparently the magic words. Marius pushed Grantaire back and stood up from the couch; Eponine was on her feet instantly, hopping over the couch again to block the way to his bedroom. Jehan had finally stopped dancing and was standing behind Feuilly, leaning his arms down on his boyfriend’s shoulders. Joly had woken up during the commotion and had turned himself around from the TV, Bossuet’s arms still draped over him as he now snored softly in Joly’s lap. Combeferre, Bahorel, and Enjolras stepped out from the kitchen area into the living room, the first two looking vaguely confused and Enjolras looking worried.

At that moment there was a soft knock, and Marius strode toward the door, leaving everyone with their mouths hanging open. Even Grantaire hadn’t predicted his words would literally raise Marius to his feet. Grantaire smirked and locked eyes with Enjolras across the room, running his tongue slowly along his bottom lip. Enjolras rolled his eyes, but Grantaire noticed him shift his weight uncomfortably and the idea of making Enjolras hard while half-drunk was exhilarating.

Marius opened the door slowly and there was Cosette, dressed in jeans and a gray button-down with a purple sweater over it, at least five necklaces of various lengths around her neck, and her long blonde hair twirled into a braid on top of her head that would rival Jehan’s skills. Everyone was staring at the pair now. Marius looked back, and Grantaire knew exactly what to do - he put on his best sympathetic “what can you do?” smile, cocking his head to the side and letting his eyes flicker over to Bahorel for just a second.

It was the perfect move: Marius turned back around, that fire in his eyes, and leaned forward to give Cosette a light kiss on the lips, respectful but purposeful. When he went to step back to let her enter, Cosette instead threw her arms around Marius’ neck and kissed him so hard that he fell back against the door frame. There was a hushed silence in the room as everyone knew they shouldn’t be watching, but also couldn’t look away from the movie moment occurring in front of them, Cosette’s fingers running through Marius’ hair while he cupped her face.

Grantaire felt a tug on his ear from behind and looked to see Eponine with a smile on her face but tears in her eyes. She mouthed to him, “Looks like you won.” Grantaire mouthed back, “Are you OK?” She nodded and then shook her head and then shrugged.

She mussed his hair and then wandered over to sit on the other bean bag chair near the window, fiddling with her iPod which had apparently gotten to the end of its playlist. A loud jingling of banjos erupted from the speakers as Eponine switched on a Mumford & Sons song, making everyone jump into the air, including Marius and Cosette. Grantaire snuck a glance at Eponine, who was trying to hold in her laughter - the fact that she wasn’t wallowing was a good thing. Even if she was mad at him for a while, Grantaire was sure he’d be able to make it up to her. He already had a few ideas; clearly he’d missed his calling in life as a matchmaker.

“Come on, you ridiculously beautiful creatures,” Jehan practically sang, skipping in between Marius and Cosette and wrapping his thin arms around them both. He pulled them into the apartment, his face positively beaming. Someone had definitely given him tequila. “So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, / So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

As Jehan dragged them into the room, Marius’ face was as red as his hair, and there was a blush across Cosette’s pretty face and an unmistakable satisfaction to her smile.

“OK, Jehan,” Feuilly said as he removed Jehan’s hands from the couple’s shoulders. “When you start quoting Shakespeare sonnets, I know it’s time for bed. We’ll see you guys tomorrow. Congrats you two,” Feuilly directed the last part to Marius and Cosette, who were still blushing and quiet, but now holding hands on the couch in between Courfeyrac and Grantaire.

“I’ll come with,” Combeferre added, nabbing all of their coats from the elephant.

“Me too,” Eponine said, jerking her iPod out of the speakers and hopping up from the chair. “Night all.” She blew a kiss to Grantaire and then flicked him off - as always, a balancing act between sweet and jaded.

A choir of goodnights followed, with an especially cheery “farewelllllllll” from Jehan as they closed the door behind them.

“So Cosette, that was quite an entrance,” Courf said, putting one leg under him and turning on the couch to face them. “I must say, for everyone, that we are quite happy you didn’t smack our Marius or spit in his face. That would have been terribly embarrassing.”

Everyone laughed except Marius, who was sending him death glares.

“I would never. I think he’s delightful, though I have to say that being welcomed into a strange home with a kiss was a surprise. Especially from someone who hasn’t had the courage to ask me out on a date in the months we’ve known each other,” Cosette said, smiling graciously as she looked up at Marius. Grantaire liked her instantly.

“I can welcome you with a kiss, too,” Courf added, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“Oh, you seem like trouble,” Cosette replied, squeezing Marius’ hand. “I think I’ll just keep this one. For now.”

Grantaire knocked Marius’ leg as he stood up. “You can thank me later,” he said with a wink. Marius only glared - he’d come around once he got over the shock, Grantaire knew. Or hoped. Marius did tend to hold grudges, like how he still wouldn’t let Joly borrow any books from him because of that one time he’d tried to disinfect Marius’ biology textbook with Lysol. But something told Grantaire this was a bit different; he had played Cupid after all.

Grantaire weaved around his friends’ knees, making his way to Enjolras who was leaning against the wall by the kitchen, his arms across his chest, his cheeks red from the alcohol but his expression unreadable. It seemed like the lustful Enjolras had given way, and the marble statue had finally returned. Grantaire collapsed next to him.

“So it looks like I won,” Grantaire said, blinking innocently at his boyfriend. He couldn’t tell if Enjolras was putting him on or actually angry that he’d lost. Since he wasn’t a gambler by nature, maybe he was a sore loser; Grantaire hadn’t even thought of that. It seemed impossible that Enjolras would be anything less than graceful, especially since all he had to do was relax in bed with his boyfriend all day. It was hardly a punishment, Grantaire thought with a pout.

Then Grantaire felt a hand on his ass and watched the corners of Enjolras’ mouth quirk up.

“That would appear to be the case,” Enjolras said, his voice low and husky, his eyes now peering into Grantaire’s with an intensity that he usually saved for when they were alone. “I already told Combeferre you and I were feeling a bit under the weather and wouldn’t be in tomorrow. We should get out of here before I start undressing you in front of everyone.”

Grantaire had to force himself to breathe, even though it didn’t feel like any oxygen was actually getting to his lungs. He leaned forward and kissed Enjolras hard, dragging his hand up Enjolras’ back to rest on his neck. Enjolras’ hands were on a mission, burying themselves in Grantaire’s hair, twisting around his curls, pulling him ever closer until Grantaire was pressed up against the wall with Enjolras in front of him.

“Just leave already!” Courf yelled. When Grantaire and Enjolras broke apart, he was standing by the door with their coats in his hands. “We’ll see you Monday, right?” Courfeyrac winked and then made a very clumsy hip thrust into the air, laughing at himself when he lost his balance and fell back against the elephant.

When Grantaire focused back on Enjolras, he felt the distinct need to remove his boyfriend of all his clothing, and that wouldn’t be possible until they were safely in the warmth of Enjolras’ apartment. Enjolras appeared to have the same thought as he walked toward Courf. Grantaire quickly nodded to Bahorel and went to say goodbye to Joly and Bossuet, only to see they were both asleep again, curled up like kittens, half on and half off the bean bag.

“Congratulations lovebirds,” Grantaire said to Marius and Cosette as he put his jacket on, his fingers shaking with anticipation as he went to zip it up. He could feel Enjolras practically buzzing behind him. “I enjoy whiskey, if you’re trying to think of a thank-you gift. And apparently my Apollo enjoys vodka, however disgusting his mixtures are.”

Grantaire was pretty sure Marius was still glaring at him as they left the apartment, Courf closing the door quickly behind him as if he was scared they’d start making out in the doorway. Which really wasn’t far off, as Enjolras pushed Grantaire against the wall right outside the door, laying kisses up and down his neck. Grantaire arched his back against the wall and rolled his hips shamelessly into Enjolras’, needing that friction. When Enjolras found Grantaire’s mouth again, it was desperate - sucking, pulling, teeth, and tongue. Enjolras’ hands were everywhere, along his torso, inside his jacket, buried in his hair, scratching his back. His body was giving off such heat that Grantaire felt like he had a fever. For his part, Grantaire kept his hands anchored on Enjolras’ hips, afraid that if he let go, he’d sink down, unable to support himself from being so weak in the knees.

“We need to go,” Grantaire gasped between kisses. “I don’t think their neighbors would appreciate us having sex in their hallway. Plus this floor is gross and I --”

Enjolras quieted him with another kiss, long and deep, sucking the air that Grantaire barely had in his lungs.

“If I would have known this is what a little vodka does to you, I would have slipped some in your water ages ago,” Grantaire said with a chuckle as he finally managed to push away from the wall and smack Enjolras on the ass to make him start walking.

“It’s not the alcohol,” Enjolras growled as they practically ran down the stairs, stopping every few steps to grope each other. Two girls passed them on the second floor, giggling. “You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

Grantaire stopped them as they were getting ready to exit, taking Enjolras’ face in his hands, tracing his jaw with his fingers. “What has gotten into you tonight? The public affection, the bet, the drinking. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love it. But it’s just... I hope you don’t think you need to change for me or anything. I don’t need --”

Enjolras cut him off with a kiss again and pulled him outside with the grace that ballet dancers would envy. Grantaire felt like his body was overloading, the chill outside and the heat radiating from Enjolras like the sun was confusing his nervous system.

“But really I don’t, Enjy, you know that --”

“Grantaire, stop talking,” Enjolras took him by the hand as they started down the street. There was a determination to his motions, and the tightness of his hand on Grantaire’s made him almost come in his pants. Grantaire had to practically jog to keep up with his long strides.

“But you aren’t saying no, you aren’t disagreeing --”

“It’s our one-month anniversary tomorrow. Or well, today now, I guess.”

Grantaire was thankful Enjolras had been paying enough attention to stop at the intersection, the crosswalk blinking a red hand at them, because he was so shocked that he kept walking straight into the street. Enjolras pulled him back onto the curb, Grantaire gawking at him the entire time.

“This is my longest relationship. I mean, it’s my only real one. But also my longest,” Enjolras said as he leaned against the street pole, trying to catch his breath while running his hand across his face.

Grantaire didn’t know what to say, and being speechless was not a quality he usually possessed. He really hadn’t realized it had been a month. He had never felt such happiness in his life - not ever - and it was as if he couldn’t even remember his world before Enjolras. He had been living day to day, enjoying Enjolras standing beside him, supporting him, making him a better person, sharing his bed. It had been a whole month, and Grantaire hadn’t fucked it up.

“Me too,” Grantaire replied, pressing their foreheads together. “Nobody’s ever put up with me for this long.”

Enjolras laughed, the bursts of hot air tickling Grantaire’s cheek in the cold. “I believe in a lot of things, but I’d never believed it possible to be this happy with another person. You make me enjoy the little things instead of getting lost in the big picture; you push me out of my routine in a way that both infuriates me and makes me delirious. You put up with my terrible moods; you cook me breakfast to make sure I eat; you play the piano when you know I need to rest. And I... I just needed to show you that today because I know I don’t show it often enough. You deserve to be loved completely every day.”

Grantaire had stopped breathing sometime while Enjolras spoke, letting his boyfriend’s voice flow into him, letting the words penetrate his very skin - he wanted to have them tattooed on his body, forever scarred on him. The ethereal Enjolras, his pale skin even paler in the moonlight, had spoken passionately about everything from saving the rainforest to modernizing government to changes for making the Musain run more efficiently. But listening to Enjolras describe him in that mesmerizing, musical voice was more than he could handle - he’d had just about enough of standing in the cold instead of thanking Enjolras properly in a tangle of sheets and hands and teeth.

The crosswalk blinked back to the walking symbol, and Grantaire gave Enjolras a quick kiss on the nose before speaking.

“Want to race back? Loser has to clean the apartment on Monday. And it’s going to need a thorough cleaning after what I have planned for you.”

Enjolras grinned and took off across the street. And so what if Grantaire let him have a little head start.

**Author's Note:**

> \- I have no idea how this one ended up being as long as my previous two combined.  
> \- Title is from "She's A Rebel" by Green Day.  
> \- One of the first times I had alcohol was the exact mix Courf made with vodka, sour apple pucker, and pink lemonade. It really does look like mud (or something else gross and brown), but it's pretty delicious.  
> \- Thank you guys so much for your comments on the other parts in this series! It makes me so, so happy that people are enjoying these as much as I enjoy writing them! <3


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